King
by Eternity In Seconds
Summary: People abandoned him. It was easy for them, like breathing, because not one of them cared. And there was so much more to him than what he showed on the surface, he had loved and he had lost and he had experience everything in between… but no one would know that. A series of drabbles from Nico's POV regarding the events surrounding the PJO and HoO... You can be king again...
1. Beginning

**King**  
**Author:** Eternity in Seconds  
**Rating:** T  
**Category:** Angst/Drama/Family/Romance  
**Pairings:** One sided (spoilers House of Hades)_  
_**Summary: **People abandoned him. It was easy for them, like breathing, because not one of them cared. And there was so much more to him than what he showed on the surface… A series of drabbles from Nico's POV regarding the events surrounding the Heroes of Olympus.  
**Authors Note:** Hello, sweeties… This is my first Percy Jackson FanFic, and it isn't even a FanFic. It is a series of very short drabbles, prompted by lines from the song _King_ by Lauren Aquilini (a beautiful, incredible song) from Nico's POV. It "documents" the events occurring in the Heroes of Olympus, and some pre-HoO. Spoilers for **House of Hades**. Although not a 'story', each one shot is connected to the previous one shots and the one shots to come. It's snippets from one big story.  
**Disclaimer:** Rick Riordan and Disney Hyperion own everything. I only own some of the thoughts placed in Nico's head.

* * *

**You're alone, you're on your own, so what?****  
**

* * *

When fate was kind, he had believed that good lay in everyone and that love could conquer all. With one act of betrayal, his image of the world shattered and his innocence was stripped away from him.

Nico walked through life as though he were blind, unable to see past the pain in which he suffered. His life could be defined through a series of flashes; by death, betrayal and the gods.

His mother. Flash. Zeus. Flash. Bianca. Flash. Percy. Flash. Minos. Flash. His father. Flash. Flash. Flash flash flash flash flashflahsflashflash

That's why it was better to be alone.

* * *

**Have you gone blind?**

* * *

He hadn't slept in days. His hair was messy and parts of his favourite black coat were covered in blood and grime. He had bags under his eyes, and some of the damned ghosts had even commented and said he looked like an anorexic panda.

He had flexed his hand over the hilt of his Stygian sword and they had left him be. He couldn't stand for their foolishness. He had been searching for Bianca for what could have been months, even years for all he knew. There was no concept of time in the Underworld. Days could pass in what felt like hours, or the reverse.

Elysium had revealed nothing. She had not been there. He had nothing. He was still alone.

* * *

**Have you forgotten what you have and what is yours?**

* * *

He wandered around Asphodel.

It looked like fields upon fields upon fields of yellow grass as high as his hip. Only Hades – or a child of Hades – could navigate the never-ending fields. Not even Zeus, King of the Gods and the Heavens, would find his way. The spirits of the dead who had done nothing – neither good nor evil – drifted without direction. Billions and billions. Souls from the start of time, destined to wander for eternity.

He knew that, to them, it was all just a dream. A trance. Even though he knew that they could feel nothing but numbness, he had still pitied them at first. His heart had once lurched as the faces, young and old, had watched him, stared at him.

No longer.

He had been numbed by his years in this place.

* * *

**Glass half empty, glass half full**

* * *

****The Doors of Death had been opened. It was a perfect opportunity to retrieve Bianca from the Underworld, take her back to earth, to have a second – _third_ – chance at a life together. The dream was tangible. He could feel it under his skin, taste it on his tongue, like water after a drought.

He didn't care about the repercussions. He didn't care about what his father would do, what the gods might do. He didn't eve care about what the others would think; didn't care about the other half-bloods and what he could have been doing for them.

He would get something back for once, instead of losing.

* * *

******Well either way you won't be going thirsty**

* * *

Hazel had brought light into his life, soothed the wounds inflicted upon his soul, and kissed away his pain. In the end, it was her love that allowed him to see. But now she had Frank. He could see it, etched on the other boys face whenever he stopped by to check up on his half-sister.

He had seen it in her face, too. The lightness. The brightness. The happiness. The feelings, twisting slowly into something powerful and consuming.

It made sense. That he would find the sun and clouds would cover it, keeping its warmth just out of reach. That he would find water after fighting against the desert, just out of reach.

* * *

******Count your blessings not your flaws**

* * *

Sitting under a poplar tree had been the spirit of the dead girl.

She had died young. Too young. She had been his age, a little younger, thirteen at most, and he had seen it in her eyes.

She had died watching something horrible.

He had noticed her clothes and had almost felt his heart twinge. 1930s. World War Two, or just before it. His actual age.

He had sensed plenty of demigod spirits in Asphodel before. But this girl had felt different. She had felt old and ancient, deep like her roots stretched far beneath the ground. She had felt like him. Like she was part death even when she had lived.

Bianca had moved on – left this realm of the dead for the realm of the living. She had chosen rebirth, chosen to live again. He didn't know why, but that hurt. They would never be together again, because Nico wouldn't choose rebirth. Why go through all this pain again? And again?

His father had warned him. About finding demigods that weren't Greek, or his sister, as he travelled the paths of the dead tirelessly.

He just hadn't warned him that it might be his half-sister he would find.


	2. Awakening

**King**  
**Author:** Eternity in Seconds  
**Rating:** T  
**Category:** Angst/Drama/Family/Romance (kinda...)  
**Pairings:** One sided Nico/Percy. Other side pairings later on._  
_**Summary: **People abandoned him. It was easy for them, like breathing, because not one of them cared. And there was so much more to him than what he showed on the surface… A series of very short one shots from Nico's POV regarding the events surrounding the Heroes of Olympus.  
**Authors Note:** Hello, sweeties… This is my first Percy Jackson FanFic, and it isn't even a FanFic. It is a series of very short one shots, prompted by lines from the song _King_ by Lauren Aquilini (a beautiful, incredible song) from Nico's POV. It "documents" the events occurring in the Heroes of Olympus, and some pre-HoO. Spoilers for **House of Hades**. Although not a 'story', each one shot is connected to the previous one shots and the one shots to come. It's snippets from one big story.  
**Disclaimer:** Rick Riordan and Disney Hyperion own everything. I only own some of the thoughts placed in Nico's head.

* * *

**You've got it all**

* * *

"_You're different," he said. "A child of Pluto. You remember your past."_

"_Yes… and you're alive."_

"_I'm Nico di Angelo. I came looking for my sister. Death has gone missing, so I thought… I thought I could bring her back and no one would notice."_

"_Back to life? Is that possible?"_

"_It should have been. But she's gone. She chose to be reborn into a new life. I'm too late."_

"_I'm sorry."_

"_You're my sister too. You deserve another chance. Come with me."_

_It was the right thing to do. But had the right thing always been so hard to do? _

* * *

**You lost your mind in the sound**

* * *

People abandoned him. It was easy for them, like breathing, because not one of them cared.

Bianca had decided to become a Hunter of Artemis, knowing full well that she was choosing immortality over him. Her only living relative… her blood, her brother. Her friend.

Percy had…

Percy had betrayed him. Had let her go; had let her die. Percy had ruined him. He had given him back his feelings, had given him something to hope for, then taken that same hope and destroyed it.

It was no wonder why he choose to be a friend to the dead.

* * *

**There's so much more**

* * *

Keeping the peace was a lot harder than ending the war, he was too late to realize. During the war, they had been free – they had lived as they chose and followed their hearts. Peace required too many painful sacrifices, and required them to betray their hearts.

He understood that better than most.

He had sworn to forsake all ties. He had sworn to his father that he wouldn't say a thing of Camp Jupiter or New Rome to anyone. He had made an oath to never forgive him. When Hazel had introduced him to Percy, wearing the purple shirt of Camp Jupiter instead of the orange of Camp Half-Blood, he had kept his promise.

But Percy had continued to seek him out and he had forgotten what it was like to have the son of Poseidon's undivided attention. It was addictive and so much more then he deserved. And he had run away, just like he always did.

* * *

**You can reclaim your crown**

* * *

In the palace, the throne dominated.

It was the colour of obsidian and decorated with human skulls and bones. His father sat upon his throne, wearing dark robes and his helm of darkness. The souls trapped inside the fabric of his robes shifted and withered. To its right lay another, smaller seat. It was decorated with colourful, beautiful flowers and fruits. It was the only item that lived. And to the left was another, even smaller seat.

"Dismissed."

Nico sat on his throne and wished that he felt something other than apathy.

"Lord Hades. Lord Nico."

The three furies knelt down in front of the throne, bowing deeply, before slowly standing and leaving.

He was the Prince of the Underworld, of his father's kingdom of the damned. Above ground, on the earth that he had no place on, he was the Ghost King.

He should have been happy. But the flowers on Persephone's throne were wilting, the first leaves of autumn were falling and he felt sadness deeper than he had ever experienced.


	3. Abandoning

******King**  
**Author:** Eternity in Seconds**  
****Rating:** T  
**Category:** Angst/Drama/Family/Romance (kinda...)**  
****Pairings:** One sided Nico/Percy. Other side pairings later on.**_  
_****Summary: **People abandoned him. It was easy for them, like breathing, because not one of them cared. And there was so much more to him than what he showed on the surface… A series of very short one shots from Nico's POV regarding the events surrounding the Heroes of Olympus.**  
****Authors Note:** Hello, sweeties… This is my first Percy Jackson FanFic, and it isn't even a FanFic. It is a series of very short one shots, prompted by lines from the song _King_ by Lauren Aquilini (a beautiful, incredible song) from Nico's POV. It "documents" the events occurring in the Heroes of Olympus, and some pre-HoO. Spoilers for House of Hades. Although not a 'story', each one shot is connected to the previous one shots and the one shots to come. It's snippets from one big story.

This takes a dark turn, because we finally get snippets of Nico's time in Tarturus...

******Disclaimer:** Rick Riordan and Disney Hyperion own everything. I only own some of the thoughts placed in Nico's head.

* * *

**You're in control**

* * *

It was only lust, he told himself as he stared into Percy's green and blue ocean eyes, but he knew that it was a lie. For he had felt lust before – felt its burn, and had its tremor pass through his limbs. What he felt now was something entirely different; it was something warm and soft and sweet; something that grew every time he saw him and it flooded his heart with tenderness and heat and feeling that was the opposite of dark. But those feelings terrified him, for he had never felt them before as well.

So he continued to lie to himself – and to Percy – for he knew that lust was so much easier to control than love.

* * *

**Rid of the monsters inside your head**

* * *

He knew at once it was an image of his soul. And an uglier thing he had never imagined. It resembled a werewolf – humanoid in shape, covered in hair, with the angular head and elongated snout of a wolf. It's fur stuck out in every which direction, or clumped and fell out of its skin, afflicted with that looked like mange and itch both at once. Its teeth projected wildly from its jaw, and it couldn't close them. The eyes were huge, and staring, and mad. The nails he had heard scraping closer were the only well-shaped things about the beast. Even then, they were huge and black and sharp, crusted with blood and filth, and he flinched away from them.

The worst part was he recognized it.

The way it hunched and rocked was the way his envy of the other campers and the way Annabeth Chase moved within him, stalking and slipping and drawling. He'd felt those emotions creeping through his heart when he thought about the Greek Half-Bloods, sometimes, and he flinched miserably from the knowledge of how it affected his soul.

Its teeth were made of hatred, the gnawing hatred that had swallowed him up when he thought about Percy and his betrayal, and his feelings despite the betrayal.

The eyes were the staring madness that had sometimes overcome him since the Lotus Hotel. He'd lain in the frigid night air countless times, with thoughts of what he had done to make people not love him, and the friendship Percy got, and the fact that he'd done nothing and everyone just hated him, and the unfairness of it all. They swirled around inside him until he felt as if he would fling himself off a cliff and into Lethe, just to stop the chaos of memory. To hear the sounds of silence again. There was no escape, and there was no rest. That was what the eyes of the beast were like.

And the filth on the creature's nails was the filth he had dipped his hand into. Controlling the Punished Dead, the Labyrinth, betraying his only friends for the father who had abandoned him, failing Bianca, believing a traitorous ghost and allowing himself to be manipulated. It was the filth of his mind, his heart and his soul. He had thought that he could purge the darkness, but it was a part of him, as a son of Hades, lying in wait inside him. It was no wonder why the campers and Olympians distrusted and loathed him. It was there, tarnishing his soul, dripping it in slime.

The beats came closer – the beast that was him, made of all the worst parts of him – and opened its mouth, unhinging its jaw like a snake, the better to swallow him.

He began to scream, and he couldn't stop.

* * *

**Put all your faults to bed**

* * *

The wind seemed to embed shards of ice anew, this time between his fingers. It didn't matter. Tartarus ought to be happy. He was higher than anything now, superior. And the air around him was pure, so it didn't matter whether or not his blood was. He wanted to shout to earth, to Olympus, to him: _Am I finally a worthy heir of you? Are you going to leave me alone now, and stop pulling on me? _

There was a soft stirring around him. He thought it was a hallucination, and wondered exactly how high he had gone, to experience something like this.

_We will never stop pulling on you. Come face Us, son of Hades._ Two voice twisting around and around each other, together and separate.

There was a shape in front of him, a black dragon, or a coiled snake, like the ones he had seen in the shadows of the Fields of Punishment. They stared at him, the many bobbing heads on slender necks, the one slender body. They were many and one at the same time. He was offering it his bare fingers against his will. And with teeth that shone as long as daggers in the sunlight, the dragon or hydra or whatever it was, was reaching back. He could hear a snarl deeper than his own heartbeat coming up its throat

Gaia and her husband would not win.

And the dragon-snake uncoiled one of many necks and struck down, straight at him, open jaws and horned head shaking with fury, the roar deafening him, and the suddenly burning hot air drowning him.

* * *

**You can be king again**

* * *

_Hope was a dangerous thing. It brought peace and joy, raised you to the heights of Kings, but when there was no longer a place for it, you were left hollow, empty, bitter and further down than you had been before._

"_Lead them there! Promise me!"_

"_I – I will."_

_Percy looked deep into his eyes, and he knew that he could read all of the pain and resentment and self-loathing within him. And the hope that was dying the further he fell away from him. He had never felt more naked._


End file.
